


Pick up your heart and run

by crimsonepitaph



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angel!Jensen, M/M, Mild Language, Minor Character Death, Violence, demon!Jared, protective!Jared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 07:59:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2340974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonepitaph/pseuds/crimsonepitaph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared's a powerful demon, but a critical error - underestimating his opponent - results in captivity, and a cellmate he should instinctively kill. He doesn't. A fill for <a href="http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/87796.html?thread=34056692#t34056692"><span>this</span></a> prompt at <span class="ljuser i-ljuser i-ljuser-type-C"></span><a class="i-ljuser-profile" href="http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/"></a><b>spnkink_meme</b>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pick up your heart and run

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Not mine. Just borrowing names and pretty faces. No harm intended.
> 
> **Author's note #1:** Title from Uriah Heep's song, _Rainbow Demon._  
>  **Author's note #2:** This story would have been entirely incoherent and unreadable without the wonderful [](http://borgmama1of5.livejournal.com/profile)[**borgmama1of5**](http://borgmama1of5.livejournal.com/).A big, big thank you goes to her for always pushing me to do better, and for _making_ everything better. She rocks. Also, summaries - I'd be completely lost without her help.  
> 

 

“That seemed like it hurt.” Jared extends a hand towards the man on the floor. “Here. Let me help you."

He reaches for Jared’s hand tentatively, hesitantly, sky-blue eyes wide and terrified.

Jared beams. Grips his hand tight.

Pulls. Lifts him clean off the floor and slams him into the edge of the sturdy mahogany dresser, twists his arm behind his back.

The Saint actually seems surprised. Jared laughs, a loud, scratchy sound.

Jared crowds him, bends him over the dresser, the man’s arm trapped between his back and Jared’s chest. Hunter turned prey. He has no chance. He knows it. Jared watches the man’s face in the dresser mirror. Fear. Pure, powerful.

Feeding Jared’s soul.

Jared leans in. He’s taller. Stronger. It’s so easy. He smiles, small and greedy.

“Shh. Not going to hurt you. Much. ” Jared traces the curve of corded neck with his teeth. He grazes lightly. Soft touch. He stays there. Mouth to ear, bodies pressed, hot and hard – Jared feels the man trembling, trapped little insect in his hands. He’s trying to get away. But Jared’s pinning him – doesn’t budge an inch, doesn’t loosen his grip.

Jared lets him struggle. Feels blood thrumming in his captive’s veins with every second that passes, with every heartbeat – faster and faster, desperate, drops of rain on metal – pointless, worthless fight. Jared plays. Lets him get one hand free. Watches as the man grabs – frantic, fingernails dragging across the wood, scratching – there’s blood on his fingertips, on his knuckles – cobwebs woven with crimson, smudged.

It’s a beautiful sight.

“You done?” Jared whispers in his ear. Tightens his hold. He’s kind of bored now.

The Saint stills. Gradually – his body quieting, admitting defeat, until he’s pliant under Jared’s fingertips.

Jared meets the man’s eyes in the mirror. He smiles wide, teeth bared, eager dimples carved in each cheek.

“Good. We’re playing a game, Saint.” Jared watches the hatred, the anger, the shame. The disgust. It’s exhilarating. “Rules are simple. One. ” Jared flicks his wrist. The man’s pinky finger twists backwards. The man screams, long and shrill. ”Don’t scream.”

Jared chuckles.

“Well, that’s on me. Got a little excited. Let’s try again.” Another flick of Jared’s wrist. Another finger snaps.

There’s sound. Cut-off, hissed between gritted teeth. But the man doesn’t scream.

Jared smiles gently. Brushes his knuckles across the man’s cheekbone, watches in the mirror as they trail across unbearded skin, ignores the flinch – “Good. You’re learning. Now rule number two.”

The man growls. Bucks against him, last attempt at a fight long lost. Jared pays it no mind. He turns the man’s head towards him, fingers cupping the smooth jaw – so close, the man’s breath is ghosting over his lips.

“No more calling friends for company.” Jared trails his thumb on the man’s lower lip. “This is a private party." Jared holds his gaze. Beams. “And when I kill them, it’s going to be a bitch to clean.”

The man growls, tries to pull his face away from Jared’s caress. Jared _tsks_ indulgently.

“Don’t look at me like that. You’re the one who called them. And _they_ will pay the consequences.”

“No, I don’t think we will.”

A voice behind him, low, gruff. Dangerous, if Jared was a little less than what he is.

Jared grins. He sees the shadow in the mirror, tracks the movements closely.

“Morgan. Long time no see.”

The man in his hold stiffens. Jared casts a cursory glance at him.

“New tactic, huh? Sending your weakest as a sacrificial lamb?” Jared turns his whole body slowly, keeps the smirk on his lips. “Thought someone like you would have a problem with that.” He raises an eyebrow, lets the heat flood his eyes, flicker in shades of dark crimson, liquid pasting over white and hazel, slow, inviting.

Morgan flinches – _shame, fear, anger, essence of Jared’s being –_ but tightens his grip on the gun he’s holding.

“Let him go. He’s not worth your time.”

Jared rolls his eyes. “We both know that if I wanted to kill him, there’d be a new design to the wallpaper already.” He sees, out of the corner of his eye – more shadows. The Legion really went all out this time. He cocks his head to the side, keeps his gaze locked with Morgan’s. “Aw, you shouldn’t have … not for little ol’ me. So many … shame not everybody’s going to get special attention.”

Morgan purses his lips in a thin line. “I’m not letting you get away this time.”

“That’s cute. That you think you _let_ me do anything.” Jared laughs.

“One more time. Let him go, or I start shooting.”

Last Saint who thought he’d cornered Jared promised to kill him slowly, cut his body into a million pieces, douse them in holy water and serve pickled demon at dinner. Jared’s still very much alive. Or, well, the demon version of him is.

Jared lets the man in his arms go, lets him stumble forward. Jared holds Morgan’s gaze. Grins – barest flick of his wrist. _Snap._ The man crumbles into a lifeless heap at Morgan’s feet. Morgan hisses, his grip turning white-knuckled on the gun.

“That’s for ruining Europe for me. Guys you sent after me? They got _really_ creative.” He raises his arms in mock surrender. “Honestly. Do you really think your little popgun is going to hurt me? I’m insulted.”

Jared’s been shot before. It hurts, but bullets can’t kill him. Few things can.

Morgan says nothing.

“So. Do I get a death wish? For the sake of all our old times?”

Morgan shakes his head.  “You aren’t getting off that easy. Death’s a favor I won’t do to you. ” He grins, eyes filled with hate, “There’s something else planned for you. Something you won’t enjoy nearly as much.”

Jared chuckles, low and dark. “Promises, promises.” He steps forward. “Right. Tell you how this is going to go, Morgan. I’m going to kill every last soldier of your sad little army. I’ll rip their throats out. I’ll rip them apart, limb by limb, bone by every little bone, and I’ll let you see. I’ll make you the last, I’ll let you watch the end to your little crusade. Spoiler? It’s bloody. And it’s all your fault.” He inches toward Morgan. “Then I’ll play with you. I’ll make you beg me. You’ll beg me to put a bullet in your head.” Jared’s lips twist into an ugly smirk. “So come on. Do it. Do what you wanted to do for such a long time.”

Jeff’s finger begins to squeeze the trigger.

Jared waits. He’s tired of running. He’ll give Morgan his chance. Maybe it’s a way out.

There’s no time. Just seconds, filtered through dark brown eyes that meet Jared’s inky red ones.

Then, pain. Searing, hot, every bone, every fiber in his body shrieking, coming apart.

No sound. Only Morgan’s eyes, tracking Jared’s fall.

Then screams. Jared’s.

 

~

  
Light.

White, all around.

Walls.

A cell, small, bright. One light.

Fuck.

His whole body hurts. Jared had forgotten it can do that.

Well, this certainly wasn’t Jared’s most brilliant plan. He hesitated. He shouldn’t have. Not for Morgan. Legion Commander. And with a personal vendetta. Jared supposes helping two Saints under Jeff’s command off the Eiffel tower into a pretty impressive free fall hasn’t really helped his cause.

This is payback.

Reducing Jared to this, to what he had always run from – trapped. Weak. All his victims in one.

But it’s slowly coming back. Awareness. Control. Of his body, of himself, of what’s inside him. He’s about to move, when –

Sound. Light footsteps.

Jared stills – it’s surprisingly easy when he can barely move an inch. His eyes flutter shut.

Someone breathing loudly.

Closer.

Feathery-light touch. A hand on his chest.

A heartbeat, louder, slightly faster. Human.

Hot puffs of breath on his cheek.

Curious fingers brush his eyelids.

Jared smiles inwardly. Opens his eyes. Blinks slowly, lets red paint over the white. Dark eyes, meeting Jared’s, blown wide.

“Boo.”

The man lets out a high-pitched shriek, stumbles, and falls backwards on his ass.

Jared laughs. Maybe this is going to be fun after all.

~

 

People aren’t afraid of monsters. It’s the unknown they’re scared of. They’re afraid of things they can’t understand.

The man crawls backwards. His hands slip, he falls, he gets back up – he stops in the corner. Curls into himself, raises both hands, covers his face in a defensive gesture.

Jared has to laugh at the sheer futility of that.

The man doesn’t understand.

He’s nothing. He wears navy blue suit pants and an open-collared white shirt, wrinkled and dirty. Not shaven, hair messed up. He’s been here for a while and it shows. But he doesn’t fit. He doesn’t belong.

He yells for help.

Useless.

They’d given him to Jared. No one will be coming. The only thing he will be screaming – _begging_ – for will be his death.

 

~

 

“I saw in a movie once ,” Jared stretches on the floor, head pillowed on his hands. The man’s still in his corner. Body contorted, stiff, still trying to believe the lie that he’s going to be saved. “There’s this prisoner. They torture him with water.” Jared turns his head, smiles as the man flinches when he meets Jared’s red eyes. “They let a faucet drip. Every few seconds … a drop of water. Again. And again. And again –“

“Shut up.”

It’s a whisper. Raspy, like he hadn’t spoken in a long time. Or like he screamed himself hoarse.

“But I was just getting to the good part.” Jared props himself on one elbow, watches as the man gathers his knees to his chest, shakes his head over and over again. “See, it’s kind of pointless for a while. You ignore it. You adapt. It’s easy. But then. There’s only that. A drop. There’s only that sound in your head. Drip. You can’t ignore it. Drip. You hear nothing else. Drip. You think nothing else. And then – “ Jared pauses. The man’s shouting now: _Shutupshutupshutup._

Jared leans back on his hands, whispers to the ceiling, “You’re dead.”

 

~

  
He’s Jared’s toy. A puppet in Jared’s hands.

Time passes. The man cries. He talks – _you can’t hurt me, you can’t, do you know who I am, you can’t._ He asks – _what are you, what do you want, why, why?_ He demands – _let me go, shut up, stay away, let me out, let me out._

He answers his own questions. _Michael. Bank manager._

It amazing, how much it doesn’t matter. Seconds, words, pointless time.

 

~

 

“Do you miss music? I do. I can sing. You want that? Oooh, fun little fact. Did you know the Nazis had an orchestra? They sang, they sang the most upbeat songs when new prisoners arrived in camp. They sang when prisoners were being gassed.”

 Jared pauses. Michael’s done talking. He listens. He stares at the same spot on the wall.

“Are you ignoring me?”

Jared sighs. “That’s not nice, Michael. History lessons. Don’t tell me I’m wasting my breath.”

Silence.

The puppet tangles in its own strings, strangling itself. Fear. Jared didn’t even have to touch.

 

~

  
There’s a tiny little man – short, stocky, too-big lab coat hanging awkwardly – he enters unannounced. Jared feels it – recognizes it instinctively. _Saint._

A surprised Jared is pinned to the wall.

The little man stands in the center of the room, one arm extended toward Jared, the other gripping a gun.

Blood.

Michael doesn’t make a sound.

Such a _human_ way to die.

~

  
The man – _the doctor_ , he introduces himself – limps towards Jared. Jared, who’s struggling ineffectually against the invisible restraint, snarls at him.

The doctor searches his eyes – and then his features slide into the most pitying smile Jared’s ever seen.

“You have no idea, do you? You don’t. He didn’t tell you. He hates you. So much, to give you to me.” He grips Jared’s forearm. Burning. Pain. Light. Inside him. Tearing him apart. Jared can’t stop a groan. “Such a precious gift. But he doesn’t – Morgan doesn’t understand. _Saint. Saint._ Saints aren’t supposed to do this. He despises me. I taint the name. I taint the oath – but he can’t kill me. Can’t. Because he’s _good_. _Good._ Such a senseless word. No one’s good. No one. They can’t.”

Jared grits his teeth, bites off a scream as fingernails dig deeper into his skin.

“So good for me, demon.” The doctor glances at the broken body in the corner. “He was gone. His eyes. Done. Done. Useless. Your fault. You took him apart. Fear by fear, thought by thought. That’s what you do. You’re the one I want. Show me. Show me what you are.”

The doctor holds his gaze for a few more moments – Jared feels his eyes turn hazel. Pathetic imitation of human. There’s no strength to draw from.

The doctor releases him.

Jared crumbles into a boneless heap at his feet.

Oh yes, payback’s a bitch.

 

~

 

Weak.

Helpless.

Maybe he deserves it.

But then again. He doesn’t feel anything.

He can’t.

~

  
There's light, there’s dark. Rhythmic cadence. Jared counts. Ten times since Michael. Dimmed light bulb. Illusion of time.

Jared gets a new cellmate the morning of the fourteenth ‘day.’

She’s a pretty blonde. Demon, like him. Weak. Inherently. Like a kid handed a loaded gun. Doesn’t know what she can do.

He doesn’t enlighten her.

She talks. A lot. Raspy voice, Southern twang.

She comes on to him. Doesn’t seem to get Jared isn’t interested.

She paces over and over inside the small cell.

All in all, she’s pretty annoying.

Jared kills her two light changes in just to have some peace of mind.

 

~

  
The doctor comes in shortly after that.

Jared’s prepared. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t get a chance.

The doctor’s touch slices his insides. Nerves fry. Muscles shred. Jared should be dead.

But not a mark on him.

There’s a proud smile on the doctor’s face when he turns to leave.

 

~

  
Jared’s pissed.

But he understands – anger, fear, fighting – he’s playing into the doctor’s hands.

So he relaxes.

He sits on the floor, legs crossed at the ankles, leans against the wall. Pulls off the leather jacket that has blood crusted on the collar. Waits. Starts humming AC/DC.

He’s done with this.

 

_~_

  
Jared’s in the middle of a pretty impressive air guitar solo on _Shoot to Thrill_ when the door opens.

When he looks up, Jared doesn’t really expect anything. A Saint, another demon, human– something in between – doesn’t matter. He’s taking care of it.

When he looks up, Jared certainly doesn’t expect the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen.

An angel.

_For him._

~

 

The angel stumbles in, tries to find his footing as the door closes behind him. He raises his gaze, meets Jared’s – and he just  stops. Becomes a perfect, motionless, breathtaking statue – wide, green eyes staring. Surprise, confusion – and fear.

There is always fear.

Of course fear. Jared’s a scary motherfucker – and while being caught playing imaginary Guitar Hero might not make the most intimidating first impression, Jared transitions effortlessly, brings himself up to full height, makes himself bigger, harder, lets his eyes drip crimson, dark and thick. To his credit, the angel doesn’t flinch.

It makes the blood boil in him – Jared wants. He wants, like he never wanted anything.

The angel takes a few cautious steps forward – but still watches Jared, knowing the threat Jared is.

The angel’s afraid. Jared can feel it, it burns through his veins, torching his soul – he just can. His curse, his blessing, gift of empathy to go with the red in his eyes. But what’s truly beautiful – the angel’s defiant. He’s standing tall. Even retreating, even knowing Jared could end him and not break a sweat, he meets Jared’s eyes. And Jared doesn’t see fear. He sees courage. He sees light.

“Demon,” the angel whispers.

 Jared smiles, slowly, hungrily. “It’s Jared.”

The angel gives an imperceptible shake of his head. “Still demon.”

“Still Jared. Shouldn’t an angel be _polite?_ ”

The angel stays silent for a few moment, watches Jared with incredulous eyes. “Are you saying – are you _insulting_ me?”

Jared grins. “Of course not.”

“It feels like you are.”

“I could _never._ ”

“Of course.” The angel’s gaze slides to Jared’s ratty black t-shirt – _Rainbow Demon_ emblazoned in bright letters on his chest. The angel arches an eyebrow.

 Jared smirks. “Best way to hide is in plain sight.”

“You’re a demon.” The angel’s brows knit in confusion. “Everyone can see that.”

Jared sighs, deep and long-sufferingly. “Again with that. Okay. You do know, it’s not right, judging people on how they look?”

“How you look is not the problem.”

Jared cocks his head to the side. Hears the angel’s words – breaks into a jaw-splitting grin. “Aw. _Angel,_ did you just tell me I was handsome?”

“Actually, I did not – ”

“You totally did. No take-backs.”

“Jared – ”

“You can say my name. The miracles keep coming.”

The angel falters for a moment, Jared sees him trying to figure this out. “Your kind doesn’t believe in miracles.”

“ _My_ _kind_? Way to make a guy feel good about himself, angel.”

“I am Jensen.”

Jared leans back on the wall, crosses his arms – finds himself enjoying the fact that the tension seems to seep out of the angel’s shoulders a bit. He shrugs. “Still an angel.”

The angel huffs out an exasperated breath. “You are very frustrating.” A pause. “Are all demons as annoying as you?”

“Nope,” Jared says with a grin. “I’m a special little snowflake.”

 

~

 

Jared can’t explain it. It overwhelms him – an urge to protect, a decision not to harm. It’s unsettling – an ancient balance of the world, turned upside down.

And the angel, somehow, seems to get that.

Not to trust Jared completely.

But enough.

 

~

 

“This is infuriating.”

Jared rolls his eyes. “I know. You said so about a dozen times.”

The angel ignores him. “I don’t even know what this is.”

“Does it matter?”

The angel looks at him with wide eyes. “Are you serious?”

Jared shrugs. “We’ll figure it out.”

“ _We?”_

Jared grins. “Well, me. You too, if you want to ditch this popsicle stand.”

The angel narrows his eyes. “You seem awfully sure of yourself.”

“A man can dream.”

“You’re not a man.”

“Aw. That hurts my feelings, angel.” A pause. “I’m not. But I was, once.”

 

~ 

Jared needs to know.

“You’re weak.”

The angel glares at him. Jared holds his gaze, unwavering. Jared can tell, an instinct, a feeling, that Jensen’s powers are bound. It’s the reason Jared dismissed him as a threat from the start.

“None of your concern.”

“Actually, it is.”

The angel throws him a look that’s half-anger, half something Jared can’t figure out. “Why?”

“’Cause I’m curious.”

“Because you’re nosy.”

Jared gives a short nod, mockingly serious and formal. “Of course. I want to know all about you.”

“And talk me to death.”

Jared considers. “Are you bored of me already, angel?”

The angel’s lips curve slightly, his eyes light up with a hint of mischief. “Bored was two hours ago. Now I’m just ignoring you.”

Jared falters for a moment. “How the hell can you tell time?”

Jensen arches an eyebrow. “How can you not?”

Jared pouts, and doesn’t talk for a good ten minutes after that.

 

~

 

Jensen’s voice disturbs the silence.

“How’d you end up here?”

The dimmed light bulb in the middle of the cell ceiling paints everything a sickly yellow – bare walls, bare floor, empty, hopeless, rotten. Two of them, caged, waiting. Waiting for an end, for fear, for change. Worthless time, strung together by Jensen’s wary glances, by a tiny flinch when Jared moves suddenly – by words, sound, voices, ineffective attempts to escape.

It’s night time. Maybe third, since the angel. Or four. Maybe five. Jared doesn’t know. He lost count. No one has come in to break the tedium. Not even the doctor. Jared wonders why. Jensen is drawn up in a far corner. He’s deemed Jared not an immediate threat.

Jared smiles, slow, steady, timeless. Continues crooking his fingers, twisting his wrist upwards to form shadows on the wall.

“You mean, what’s a big, bad demon like me doing in a place like this?”

The angel nods.

Jared shrugs, bends his fingers, brings his other hand up. Bunny on the wall changes shape, shadows playing around.  “Error in judgment.”

Jensen watches the forms on the wall, eyes turning ridiculously wide and shocked. Really. Jared is pleased that he provoked that response. “Are you – is that – are they – “ The angel stares at what the finger shadows are doing, then shakes his head. But he’s smiling, ever so slightly, so Jared calls it a success. “You know what? Never mind.”

Jensen’s eyes turn serious again. “You make a lot of those?”

Jared surprises himself when he answers honestly. “Mistakes? No. Not in a long time, at least.”

The angel pauses for a moment. “You think not killing me is one?”

Jared turns to look at him, smile slipping from his lips, R-rated movie on the wall going to credits pretty fast. “ _No_?”

Jensen nods, but doesn’t say anything more than that. Jared watches him for a few moments, tries to figure it out. It’s usually easy. Human nature is predictable, reliable. He is a master at manipulating anyone he meets. But not the angel. He’s so easy to read, but so hard to understand.

Jared shapes a bird flying on the wall.

 

~

  
The door opens.

Jared’s standing in front of the doctor in two seconds flat.

It takes another several to have him pinned to the wall. Jared doesn’t think. He’s stronger than last time.

Jensen lingers a few steps back, doesn’t make a sound.

The man wheezes, wide, panicked eyes meeting Jared’s – and Jared presses, feels his windpipe under his palm. So easy. His eyes flicker red, dark.

Jensen shouts.

A warning. A threat. Or maybe Jared just wishes that.

And then there’s only pain.

 

~

  
Jared comes to with a voice whispering in his ear, low and raspy.

“Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating. Demon. You attacked. Power.” A calloused finger traces his cheeks, trails upwards over Jared’s closed eyelids. The voice is full of wonder. Awed. Jared growls, struggles to get up.

He can’t. His body feels like lead. Bound. The voice carries on.

“You just acted. The angel. Light. And you. Dark, so dark, always dark. You didn’t even think about it. You almost killed me. You’ve never protected yourself. Why? Was he more important? _Protect._ But you’re dark. You are, you can’t not be, you are what you are. So how? How?” Seriously, Jared doesn’t know what the fuck the man’s going on about. He grits his teeth. _Stop._ The voice cracks as fingers slide through Jared’s hair, low, gentle – and Jared fights harder, but he’s trapped, and the only thing he can feel is the hand, and a part, another voice in his head, the angel, _tell me he’s alright, please, now._ “I never even dreamed of this. Feel it. Angel. Fight. He was just the catalyst. You are _kill, kill, kill._ Chaos. You’re … you’re a creature. You’re instinct. You do not feel. You want. You take. But this … now? You are connected. Special. Yes. _Special._ I’m going to find out why. I’ll see. You’ll see. I’ll show you how special you are.”

The voice hitches. Jared feels wetness on his forearm. A tear.

Everything fades out.

~

  
Jared jolts up. Same cell. Same white. And Jensen, hovering in the background.

Jared blinks a few times. “Fuck.”

Jensen stills. Meets Jared’s eyes. “Um. Welcome back. ”

Jared quirks an eyebrow.

The angel smiles a bit sheepishly. Jared’s convinced that, if anyone could see him now, they’d revoke his demon card. The relief at seeing his angel standing there must be embarrassingly obvious.

He rises – slowly, until he’s sure he can control his body again. He’s putting the whole _being bound_ thing on the list of things never to do again. Speaking of – “We’re getting out.”

Jensen looks at him, expression carefully blank. Jared doesn’t fucking know how to explain, never had to, he wasn’t made to understand – what he feels right now, it’s too much, too hard to figure out. Because there’s no endpoint, no goal, no action and consequence. Just panic. Jared didn’t know he could still feel that.  A drumming cadence. _Keep him safe. Get him out._ And Jared wants to ask why. How. What it means.

It just doesn’t matter. A choice Jared hadn’t realized he’d made the first time he looked in those bright green eyes.

 

~

  
Jared drops to his knees before Jensen. Jensen’s whole body vibrates – huddled against the wall, curled up in a ball.

“You’re cold.”

The angel shakes his head. “I can’t get cold. Or hot.”

“And yet, you are. You feel … almost human.” Jared doesn’t want to touch. He doesn’t. He hurts. That’s what he does. “Tell me what he did.”

Jared can see the moment the fight dies down. “My powers. He bound them. Before. _Outside._ ” Jensen pauses. “Now – he put his hand on me and it felt – like fire.” Jensen meets Jared’s eyes. There is no trust. “It felt like a demon’s touch.”

Jared nods. He knows jack-shit about all of it. He steps back. Flicks his wrist, and the jacket he’d discarded lands in his hand. He offers it to Jensen. Unceremonious. Awkward. The angel looks at him dubiously.

“There’s…there’s blood on that.”

Jared rolls his eyes. “Fussy angel.” He drops it in front of Jensen. “Next time I’ll bring you a parka.”

“Next time?”

“Sure. This whole getting studied on like a lab rat is kind of fun.”

Jensen’s lips twitch slightly – but he puts the jacket on, hands trembling as he smoothes out the sleeves. Jared retreats to his corner – but if Jensen sees the move of Jared’s fingers, or feels the collar go up, well, he doesn’t call Jared on it.

 

~

 

The doctor comes two more times. He holds Jared down. He’s powerful. And he knows, now. He’s too much. And Jared watches as Jensen fights. As Jensen crumbles under the doctor’s hand. And there’s still the same light in Jensen’s eyes.

Jared snarls, he struggles, he breaks a little of the binding just to be pulled back – Jared screams, mindless, helpless as the man mutters, blow after blow, over and over again on his angel – _you see? You see? –_ while looking straight into Jared’s eyes.

Rage. Hot, blinding. Jared would cry – but he can’t.

_You are what you are._

 

~ 

 

“Lie down.”

Jensen stutters over his reply. “I c-can’t.” _It hurts too fucking much,_ is what goes unsaid.

The angel, strong and stubborn, until – until he can’t.

“Jensen.” Stern. Commanding.

Michael hid his face in his hands. Jared stares into Jensen’s eyes. Same futile gesture. Same senseless wish. _Make it alright._

The angel does. He sits next to Jared, head pillowed on the now torn jacket, curled up on his side. Jensen closes his eyes. He’s so close to giving up – this, trusting Jared, painful proof of that.

And Jared can’t. Can’t let him do that.

So he sings. Stupid. That’s all he has. An old lullaby comes to mind. His momma sang it to him as a kid when he was sick. He only remembers pieces. All that’s left of his life.

His voice scratches the silence, and he cringes at the sound. It wasn’t made to be sung by someone like him.

But Jensen listens.

Jensen listens for a long time.

And next time he opens his eyes, there’s a slightest curve to his lips when he speaks. “You have an awful voice, Jared. Don’t quit your day job.”

 

~

  
Jensen’s healing. Jared doesn’t touch.

It’s not fast enough.

He searches Jared’s eyes, lost, confused, worn out. “Why? What does he want?”

Jared’s eyes flicker red. “Love.”

Jensen doesn’t understand.

It’s alright. Jared thinks he does.

 

~

  
It’s ugly. Twisted. Fire, anger, hell inside him, burning, scorching, leaving nothing behind. Just dark.

Jared pulls free, the third time. Jensen looks up with wide eyes. The lights flicker, the ceiling cracks. The background turns shaky. Someone’s screaming. It’s Jared. Raw, cries out as he twists everything in him inside. Lets it flood him. Lets it out.

The doctor fights back. All Jared sees is red, ground breaking under his hands.

Glowing, growing, steadier, faster, closer – until all there is ash.

A pile of dust.

The doctor seemed surprised. A second before, a knowing smile before he meets true death.

Jared’s smile is cruel, eyes shining, dimples carved out his cheeks.

This is him.

This is what he is.

 

~

  
“Jared – “

A whisper.

“Jared, please –“

An angel.

“Jared. Come back.”

_His._

 


End file.
